


Gregory Goyle and the Fourth Year Twist

by NaraMerald



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaraMerald/pseuds/NaraMerald
Summary: Alternate title: Draco Malfoy and the year which must not be spoken about. Ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What's a jenga-inspired writing prompt between friends, eh? 
> 
> Prompt: Gregory Goyle and the Fourth Year Twist

It was, the students of Hogwarts thought, some sort of horrible (hilarious, mystifying, confusing, yet ultimately awful) joke. The Great Hall was silent. Hermione was pinching her arm desperately, leaving red marks in a line down her arm. McGonagall’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out.

“Bloody weird dream…” Ron whispered. 

“I… I don’t think it’s a dream… If it is, I’m having it too…” Hermione stared as red welts formed on her arm from repeated pinching. 

“Harry… slap me…” Ron whispered, wanting to wake up from a dream. Harry didn’t hear him, but the twins did, and promptly obliged him. 

“Ugh! Fred! George!” Ron cradled his face, before realising abruptly that… 

“I’m not dreaming!” Ron yelled. 

“…eerrrk…” an odd noise came out of Oliver Wood’s throat. 

Dumbledore, seeming to shake his head, stepped forward and with a quick ‘Soronus’, began to address the 

“Unexpected… but Congratulations, Gregory Goyle is the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion!” 

Draco Malfoy’s life was never going to be the same again. 

… 

“Goyle, what did you do?!” Pansy hissed, as soon as they were in the common room. 

“I didn’t do it…” Goyle answered in confusion. Draco honestly was stumped. Not even Goyle thought he had a chance for the Triwizard cup, and while he was faintly pleased now, Draco thought even he could figure out (at some point, not necessarily now) how much danger he was in. 

Draco was going to be short one henchman very soon, if past indicators were to be believed. 

And how did he even get his name in, anyway? |

_(As it turned out, Snape, seeing that damned Mad Eye Moody writing “Harry Potter” under the “Special nomination for extra House Points” award form (and since when was there one of those, Snape wondered angrily), quietly and spitefully changed it to Malfoy, then, thinking the better of it as Malfoy was currently in detention for pushing a first year off of moving stairs, edited it to read “Gregory Goyle”. The figure of Mad Eye Moody didn’t check the name listed on the form as, under the cover of darkness, he dropped it into the Goblet of Fire.)_

“That’s so fizzin’,” Crabbe went to high five him. Goyle didn’t pick up on the intent soon enough and thus Crabbe accidentally smacked him in the face. (“Crabbe, stop trying to make fizzin’ happen. It’s not going to happen,” Daphne snarked.) 

Pansy looked at Draco in resignation. 

Draco shook his head slightly. 

Pansy looked at him, eyes narrowed. 

Draco coughed and tried to look elsewhere. 

Pansy’s eyes were like lasers when he turned back around- she was glaring enough that he accidentally choked on air in surprise. 

“Fine!” Draco burst out in annoyance. 

“What?” Blaise asked, completely bewildered. Everyone was now staring at Draco. Draco coughed and tried to regain his dignity. (Easier said than done.) 

“We’re going to help Goyle. All of us,” Draco ordered. 

“What, by like… cheating…?” Crabbe asked slowly. 

“No, by unicorns,” Pansy drawled, as Crabbe and Goyle looked confused. 

“YES BY CHEATING!” she yelled in frustration, stamping her foot. 

Goyle’s face began to do something then, Draco saw, alarmed. It sort of moved, and his mouth stretched up into an (admittedly hapless) smile of pure joy. It was kind of charming, Draco thought absentmindedly, if you ignored how vacant it looked. Goyle was smiling like it was Winter Solstice, and this was the best gift he’d ever received. Actually, come to think about it… 

“Are those tears?!” Blaise looked disturbed. 

“You guys…” Goyle choked out. It was unclear if he was overcome with emotion or just unable to remember the end of the sentence. 

“Don’t strain yourself…” Daphne sighed. 

“Right… so to plan…” Draco began. 

… 

It was exceedingly difficult, they soon realised, to plan for Goyle’s survival, let alone success. The rest of the school, useless arses that they were, had already began to place bets on whether Durmstrang or Beauxbatons would win. 

In the meantime, Goyle was… well Goyle. No amount of tactics other than “Hit it” would stick. Even dodging was shoddy at best. 

“We’re doomed, mate,” Draco overheard Weasley saying. As he couldn’t deny it, he simply pretended not to hear it. 

… 

“It’s dragons!” shouted Astoria Greengrass, running into the common room, much to general distaste and confusion. 

“Dragons…” Blaise said slowly. 

“Merlin’s Balls…” swore Pansy. 

“We’re rooted,” Theo groaned. 

… 

“Ok, dragons!” Malfoy said, a little desperately. Suggestions rained down to the point he could barely distinguish different spells. 

“Strategies for Goyle fighting dragons…” Pansy clarified. The entire Slytherin house stared back at him silently. 

“Dodge?” someone suggested hopefully. Theo winced, remembering their last friendly Quidditch match. 

“Water charms were in first year exams, right?” another wondered. Draco also winced (discreetly). Goyle’s parents had been paying … he wasn’t sure who, but it had to be someone… every year. Goyle couldn’t perform anything much reliably. 

“What can Goyle do?” Theo mused. They all looked at each other. Goyle sat contentedly, watching them write on the wall of the common room. 

_Goyle can:_  
\- Dodge (somewhat)  
\- Walk  
\- Run?  
-  
\- 

“I can sing,” Goyle interjected. This, unfortunately, was a useless skill in regards to dragons. 

“New plan. With those skills, what can we do?” Pansy asked. 

… 

 

It was, Draco thought, admittedly not their best plan. It was however, their only plan. When Goyle was called (last, Hungarian Horntail), he was covered in fireproofing charms from every single Slytherin (though Crabbe’s seemed to shoot odd puffs of air occasionally). From hiding under cloaks, to climbing trees, to shaking hands… every single Slytherin had shot a charm at him between sleeping, breakfast and getting to the tent… and of course, being in the tent. Goyle being Goyle, hadn’t even noticed, except for wondering why Theo was in a tree. 

And now it was time. 

“Well then…” Draco said awkwardly. Goyle stared at him blankly. 

“Best of luck!” Draco did an odd sort of wave (What was that? Thank Merlin no one saw him…) and then got out of that tent as fast as possible. 

“It’s starting!” Pansy hissed at him, when he finally made it to the stands. The Slytherins were watching with baited breath, the rest of the school with the kind of horrified fascination one might watch brooms collide, or a shipwreck, or the Hogwarts Express derailing. Even the professors, sitting in front of them, were muttering darkly about his (lack of) chances. 

Indeed it was not looking good. Goyle stepped out of the tent, and was promptly covered in flames. 

“OH MERLIN HE’S DEAD!” one of the younger students screamed. 

Everyone leaned forward, watching with baited breath. The flames ended and Goyle walked out, somewhat confused. (Puffs of air seemed to be coming off of him- Crabbe’s charm had somehow held, though what it was actually doing was a different topic altogether.) 

“He’s alive?!” Snape seemed surprised.

“Thank heavens!” McGonagall muttered.

The next five minutes proceeded thus; Goyle slowly walking forward, Horntail spewing flames, Goyle not catching fire.

“He’s not even bothering to dodge…” moaned Pansy. 

“Does he even understand that dragon wants to kill him?” asked Theo. It was indeed debatable. 

Then things got even more bewildering. Goyle appeared to be… 

“Is he… dancing…?” Daphne asked incredulously. 

Draco was unable to reply. Never had he felt such a maelstrom of emotions… chief being confusion, confusion and humiliation… 

Goyle was poking out his arms, stomping his feet and shifting his head from side to side. It was, without a doubt, the strangest thing Draco had ever seen. 

“Can you call that a dance?” Pansy asked dubiously. 

“I can’t… I … what…?” Blaise appeared to be in physical pain as Goyle raised his hands into the sky at odd angles and moved his head forward and back. He brought his knees up and made some sort of rowing motion. 

“There’s something you don’t see everyday, Minerva,” Dumbledore commented. 

“Albus, there’s a FIREBREATHING DRAGON! And he’s DANCING?!” McGonagall shrieked. 

“I still contend… that’s not dancing…” Pansy murmured to Draco, mesmerised. 

In fact, the dragon, simultaneously similarly mesmerised, but also enraged, began to do an odd stomping movement, bellowing, as it weaved rather drunkenly, (headbutting one of the stands and causing the ministry officials to scream and start throwing anti-flame charms out). In the meantime, Goyle walked over to the egg and sat next to it. 

“Oh Merlin… he doesn’t know…” Theo groaned. 

“TOUCH IT! TOUCH THE EGG!” Pansy screamed. 

Only Goyle. Only Goyle could waste 10 minutes with a rampaging dragon because instead of touching the egg, he sat beside it. 

“IT WILL END WHEN YOU TOUCH IT!” Blaise yelled. 

Finally, they restrained the dragon as the time ran out, Goyle not having managed to touch the egg he was sitting next to. 

Draco put his head in his hands. It was going to be a long competition.


	2. The second task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really, Draco thinks, the less said about preparing for the second task, the better.

Really, Draco thinks, the less said about preparing for the second task, the better. After being given the damn golden egg, the Slytherins immediately snatch it from Goyle. They find references to muggles and geese, and procure one. The goose does not take to the golden egg, and Draco does not appreciate herding the animal. 

Then come the next attempts. At one point, they open it. This too is a mistake, and one which they all immediately regret. Screeching fills the Slytherin common room. 

“SHUT IT OFF!” yells Pansy, hands over her ears. 

“I’M TRYING!” Blaise fumbles the egg, dropping it. Draco fancies the screeching is even more pissed off, but he’s vaguely worried his ears are bleeding which is a more pressing concern. 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE” Goyle screams. 

“MERLIN’S PANTS WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!” Theo rants. Blaise finally manages to shut the egg, and Goyle stops screaming shortly. 

“Goyle?” Draco asks, voice dangerous. 

“I was harmonising!” Goyle offers. 

“There was nothing harmonious about it-” Draco mutters. 

“I didn’t know you knew that word!” Daphne says happily. Goyle looks impressed with himself. 

Draco doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. 

… 

They subject the egg to a barrage of tests… air, earth… fire definitely turns out to be the wrong one. By the time the spies they have watching Fleur and Victor report that it’s water, the golden egg is significantly more singed and the only sound that will come out when opened under water is a garbled “Piss off!” followed by “Burning… BURNING!”

“Right then…” Draco stares at the burnt, extremely unhappy egg. For some reason, he’s the figurehead of this whole effort (Did Pansy out-Slytherin him? That witch!) so it’s him standing in front of a common room full of expectant students. 

“Water, presumably, The Great Lake then,” Draco offered. 

“Can you swim?” Pansy asks absent-mindedly, filing her nails. 

“Yes!” Crabbe says with great enthusiasm. Daphne sighs. 

“Can you swim GOYLE?” Pansy repeats, filing a particularly frustrating snag. 

“Yes!” Goyle mimics Crabbe. Everyone looks to Draco to check Goyle’s not just copying Crabbe’s answer. 

“Pretty sure yes.” Draco is fairly sure… like, 70%. Those are good odds, for Goyle anyway. 

“Right, Benson, you’re on animals in the great lake. Roldalio, propulsion, movement in water. Sinders, you’re on breathing underwater. Nott and Greengrass, spells underwater- spells that can be preset, if possible. Malfoy, Parkinson and I will coordinate efforts,” Zabini decided. Draco wondered to himself if he was annoyed at not having to give the orders, then decided he was relieved. If Pansy could palm this off on him, maybe he could palm it off on Zabini. 

“What should we do?” Crabbe asked. 

“Goyle… practise holding your breath,” Draco ordered. He realised Crabbe was still looking to him for directions. “Uh, you too Crabbe.” 

Daphne, Blaise, Pansy and Theo watched them leave. 

“Do you think this is some kind of teamwork test from Dumbledore?” Theo asked. 

“Even for a Slytherin, there’s such thing as being too paranoid,” Daphne sighed, and then they took out their secret stash of Firewhisky. They were going through record amounts this year. 

…

It took all of Slytherin a whole week before they had two possibly-workable plans. 

“So as I was saying, these charms could possibly wear off underwater, so I think Gillyweed is the better option,” Sinders declared hesitantly, looking at Goyle. 

“Ok, Gillyweed it is,” Blaise and Draco look at each other. Thus is the first day of training Goyle. 

“What do you do, Goyle?” Draco asks patiently. 

“The bell goes and the competition starts and I go underwater,” Goyle says happily. 

“But what do you do FIRST Goyle?” Pansy says somewhat dangerously. 

“The bell goes,” Goyle says. 

“And then SECOND Goyle?” Pansy is grinding her teeth so hard Draco wants a Mediwitch to come and check them later. 

“I….” Goyle is trying very hard to remember. Draco has simultaneous, conflicting desires to praise him and strangle him. This year is a tumultuous one for his emotions to be sure. 

“Yes, Goyle?” Pansy says hopefully, presumably attempting to legilimens the answer. 

“Then I eat the seaweed!” Goyle says triumphantly. 

“YES! YES GOYLE!” Draco shouts, on his feet in glee, before realising what he’s done and attempting to sit back down without drawing too much attention. He fails. Nott and Zabini are eyeing him in amusement, as is Parkinson, but he saw her fist pump, she can’t hide from him. 

“Yes!” Daphne claps. 

Draco thinks Goyle might be crying again. 

… 

The next day they have two setbacks… one, Goyle forgets the seaweed is step 2. 

Two, they realise how many things are in the lake. 

“The Giant Squid, Grindylows, the Chappas, the Undines, the Merpeople, the Wanes, assorted other water sprites as may drift in and out…” Benson begins. 

“Hmm, not so good,” Pansy says as neutrally as she can manage. 

“But that’s not actually including anything that could have been introduced… which is a lot. A leviathan, sharks, the Kikoe… I could go on, except really, anything could go in there,” Benson has a point. It’s not a point they want to hear. 

Daphne chooses to come in at this point. 

“Tell them Goyle!” she says excitedly. 

“First, the bells… second the seaweed!” Goyle says. 

“And what do we do WITH the seaweed?” Daphne checks. 

“Eat it!” Goyle says triumphantly. 

Draco feels something a little like despair. 

 

… 

There are no more setbacks with the gillyweed- Goyle, remembering successfully to eat it every time afterwards. He could learn, though he was slow and extremely unperceptive (excepting when others are mean to him, Draco thinks he knows that, and it makes him feel a little hollow inside to remember Goyle’s face falling at the taunts of first year, before the rest of them closed ranks against stupid Flint. Not that they did it to protect Goyle. It was a blatant power grab, nothing more. And it succeeded. The fact that Flint shut up about Crabbe and Goyle was imply a coincidence, Draco maintained.)

“There is only one preset spell I can think of… and it’s not really so much of a preset spell…” Daphne looks hesitant. Nott, clearly in the loop on this one, smirks. 

“What IS it Greengrass?” Draco asks impatiently. 

“SummoningSpell,” she says as quickly as possible. 

“What on earth will he remember to summon that will be helpful?” Pansy asks, frustrated. 

Daphne emits a squeaking sound and looks anywhere but at Draco. Nott smirks. 

No no no. Draco is putting the pieces together and he is not liking it. 

“ME?!” he shrieks. 

“We-” Daphne begins. Blaise is choking on his laughter. 

“ME?!!!!!” Draco really hopes he is pouring all his outrage into that one syllable, because Merlin is he outraged, and yet it seems to be the one sound he can manage right now. He feels a bit of sympathy for Goyle. 

“To be fair, it could be any of us. We’d all better have some Gillyweed on hand…” Greengrass looks distasteful at the mere thought of her hair getting wet. 

…

“Step one!” Pansy drills. 

“The bell rings,” Goyle recites. 

“Step two!” 

“I eat the seaweed.” 

“Step three!” she says, attempting what Draco assumes is meant to be an encouraging face. She’s not built for encouragement. 

“I get in the water…” 

“Step four!”

“Accio!” Goyle shouts, and is immediately pelted by a golden goblet, summoned through the air towards him. Pansy, luckily, shields him from the worst of it. 

The first time they weren’t so prepared and Goyle was out for an hour. 

… 

 

“Step four!” 

“Accio!” 

“ARGHHHHHH WHAT IS HAPPENINNNNNNGGGG!” 

“… at least he got a person this time.” 

“Not even a Slytherin though…” 

 

...

“Step four!” 

“Accio!” 

“NOT ME GOYLLLEEEEEEE!” 

“Well, he’s getting closer. This one’s at least a Slytherin.”

… 

 

“Step four!” 

“Accio!”

“Jesus, what the fuck is that? Is that a pixie? I didn’t even know we had those.” 

“More importantly, why has he gone backwards? He actually had wizards before.” 

“Oh, he has these stages. It’s called a plateau in learning in most people, according to the literature, but he seems to slide backwards. He’ll go back to wizards again in a few.” 

“Plateau of learning… What the… Daphne, I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.” 

… 

“Step four!” 

“Accio!”

“DAMN YOU NOTT!” 

“Hey, he actually got Draco that time!” 

“That was the best thing I’ve seen in years.” 

… 

It doesn’t say anywhere in the rules that Goyle can’t summon other people. Draco, extremely bruised and battered, has resorted to using certain charms on himself. It’s probably the only reason he survived Goyle trying to summon him through the wall. 

“Draco you look…” Pansy cuts off tactfully. 

Draco finds that he’s growling. 

“Would you look at that, he’s discovered his wild side,” snickers Zabini. 

Draco is getting through this moment purely by imagining his hands around Zabini’s neck, tightening. 

… 

 

“Step one!” 

“The bell rings,” 

“Step two!” 

“I eat the seaweed.” 

“Step three!” 

“I get in the water…” 

“Step four!”

“Accio!” Goyle shouts, but oddly enough it’s Zabini whose shocked face races past him sideways, shrieking, briefly cut off as his head smacks into the doorframe. 

Draco feels quite satisfied, once they’ve established Zabini’s still alive. It gives him a great idea. 

… 

The day of the second challenge dawns and Daphne and Pansy are still frantically trying to practise with Goyle. 

“Everyone have their Gillyweed?” Zabini asks in a low voice. Every Slytherin at the match has a stem in their pockets, just in case, and cushioning charms, just in case. Goyle’s aim and selection of allies isn’t really stellar, so it could be any one of them, even if accidentally. 

One minor upside is it really confused that prat Potter when he accidentally bumped into him and was gently rebounded into the wall as if Draco was a balloon. 

The siren goes, and the champions dive off the platform, except for Goyle. Goyle appears to be muttering to himself. Draco can here Daphne chanting “Step one, eat the seaweed” under her breath, and they hiss with pleasure when Goyle perks up and reaches for his pocket. 

“Yes, yes… NO Merlin where did he get that piece of toast… put it DOWN Goyle!” Zabini groans, and Draco would be happier that he’s not the only one stressing, if he was stressing a little less. Belay that, he was definitely not stressing, Malfoys don’t stress but… 

“YES THE SEAWEED!” Daphne screams in joy as Goyle, face confused, also pulls out the seaweed. 

The Golden Trio look somewhat disturbed at such a display of emotion, but honestly, Draco is as close to tears as he is ever going to get when Goyle manages to get the seaweed in his mouth. 

“Yes Goyle!” grunts Nott. Sinders actually appears to be hyperventilating but Draco doesn’t have time for his shit today. Goyle then mouths “step two” and then turns to face the water. 

“YESSSSS!” Parkinson grins as he walks straight off the platform. It’s one of the more odd lake entrances Draco has seen, less like a deliberate entry and more like he simply didn’t notice the platform ended. His legs were still making walking movements as he hit the water. 

Draco is ready. Any time now. 

Any time. 

Any… 

Well, a lot of things could have happened. 

“Do you think the Grindylows got him?” Zabini asks quietly in concern. 

They wait a little longer. 

“Processing time, remember?” Daphne reminds them, but she sounds concerned. 

Then suddenly Draco is flying, flying through the air, flying through… (thank goodness for that cushioning charm) but then flying though the water and his instinctive reaction is to take a breath and that was a BAD IDEA oh god he’s drowning, he’s bloody drowning, he needs air and… 

SHIT THE GILLYWEED

Draco stuffs it into his mouth, choking it down (literally), as his eyes burn and water trickles down the back of his throat from his nose and he thinks he’s not going to get there in time, it’s not working, Goyle’s going to bloody kill him… 

…and then relief. 

Goyle gives him a huge thumbs up from a meter away. Draco focuses on breathing, and not committing murder. After about five minutes, he deviates slightly from the original plan and onto DracoSpitePlan©. 

“Accio Blaise!” “Accio Pansy!” “Accio Daphne!” “Accio Nott!” Draco grins and waits. 

Daphne and Blaise both panic the same way he did and all of them are sodden and glaring at him under the water. 

Draco widens his eyes as innocently as he can. 

“You don’t look innocent, you look like a house elf,” Nott growls, insofarasmuch as he can underwater. Goyle actually claps his hands together in childlike excitement. He’s clearly having the time of his life, and Draco wants to resent him for it, but can’t quite manage. 

“Right then… onwards Goyle!” Draco suggests, but then gives up on the pretense of following Goyle when Pansy redirects him immediately. 

“This way then Greg,” she sighs, physically pushing him to face the right direction. Daphne meanwhile, is actually grinning sappily. 

… 

As it turns out, the mermaids are not fond at all of them. 

“ONE PERSON! ONE PERSON!” The leader yells repeatedly. The trident is coming out as are the … webbed-claw-hand-things. They’re pretty angry. 

“Merlin are they facial tentacles? Gross,” Pansy says not nearly quietly enough. Draco actually sees Nott facepalm out of the corner of his eyes. 

The … tentacles… flare up in clear agitation. 

“Righto then,” Draco says in resignation, because if there’s one thing he’s learnt from the whole egg debacle it’s… 

“INCENDIO!” he says, and even he’s impressed he got a stream of fire underwater. 

“ARGH!” The merman screams and screams like a little baby, even though the fire is totally nowhere near him. Suddenly it’s like Draco’s a mass murderer. All the mermaids shriek and suddenly they’re totally gone. 

“Um, so you should probably like, nevercomenearthislakeagain,” Pansy says quickly, staring at the trail of bubbles they left behind in their terror. 

The others are staring at Pansy and Draco in silence, he thinks due to her hypocrisy, because honestly, like she’s going to be welcome back either…

Then he realises Goyle is trying to eat the bubbles, and sighs. 

… 

The rest of the task is pretty great, Draco figures. Everyone’s alive, even Crabbe (and they all exchange a silent, guilty look over the hostages when they realise no one noticed he was missing), and Zabini totally lost his shit when he saw the Grindylows (“GET YOUR FREAKISH LITTLE HANDS OFF OF ME YOU CREEPS! MERLIN FUCK I’LL GET YOU DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME FUCK EEEEEEEEEK”) and that joyous memory will sustain Draco for a long time. 

There’s a boring debate over whether Goyle summoning them was fair or not, (general consensus: no but we can’t find it anywhere in the rules to say so) and eventually Goyle is declared second place winner. Draco, Blaise and Pansy want to argue it, because bullshit, he was clearly there first, they left all the other hostages behind but Theo and Daphne hold him back, looking at him meaningfully, and Draco remembers they aren’t trying to win, just to get him to stay alive. Goyle meanwhile, has hugged Crabbe. In the stands, he thinks he sees Granger wiping a tear away, while the Weasel and Golden Boy look genuinely disturbed. 

That night Draco enjoys all the drunken fame of being head-conspirator at the party, but even staring at the other passed out plebians with Pansy, he can’t help himself when he sees Goyle. 

“Best day of my life,” Goyle grins, sweetly happy, and Draco feels something odd. In the next second though, Goyle’s eyes roll back in his head and he passes out, smacking into the floor with a thud that makes Draco wince. 

He denies that he ever thought of hugging Goyle. 

100% denial.


End file.
